


A Thing of (Quiet) Beauty

by sugartrash



Series: Break Sugar's Block [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Femsub, PWP, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3856489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugartrash/pseuds/sugartrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>11. Dom/sub</p><p>Another kink prompt to shake this funk. No promises as usual. Someone requested Zevran/Josephine. Femsub, implied switch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thing of (Quiet) Beauty

"And here I was beginning to think--impossible as it seems--that you had forgotten me." Zevran slipped in between the curtains with the cold night air. As soon as he was inside, and the window closed behind him, he shed his heavy, dark cloak. It was rather like having a candle lit in the dim room, especially when he smiled.

"You should know I could never do such a thing." Josephine took his cloak to hang it by the fire. The hem of it was wet and heavy, the weather outside had been capricious for days.

"With so many names to remember, I am sure it would be easy to lose mine." Zevran took a seat in her desk chair to remove his boots.

"No, allow me, please." Josephine was hardly prepared for him as there had been so much paperwork today, she was still dressed in the formal blouse and gown she'd worn to court that afternoon.

"Ah, so that is how it should be between us today? Very well." He sat back in the chair and indicated his boots with a flourish of one elegant hand. He was such a chameleon, Josephine envied him the skill, the way his air shifted effortlessly from scoundrel to master of all he surveyed. "Your happiness is always my reward."

Josephine arranged her skirts as she knelt to take his wet, filthy boots in her lap. Dark water stained the brocade immediately, spreading quickly as she worked the tight, half-frozen laces loose. Zevran tugged one of her hair pins out, then dropped it to the floor. It bounced once, the gems shining in the low light of the fire.

It was not an inexpensive thing. Josephine bit back her protest as he did it again. Loops of her hair fell in front of her face. By the time his boots were undone, her hair hung down to brush them and the carpet around them glittered with discarded pins. Her corset felt too tight, she was hot between her thighs and breasts.

She pulled Zevran's boots off and then the socks under them. His feet were cold, so she warmed them with her hands, kissed them over and over until she was breathless and his skin was wet from her mouth. Everything about him was lean and elegant, enviable in its careless grace. She wanted all of him bare but she had set the terms and so must abide by them.

"Dry them off, my treasure," Zevran said evenly. "And then we will play." She looked up to see him watching her, unmoved in his expression but betrayed by the swell of his arousal straining the front of his breeches.

"Of course, Zevran," Josephine said softly. "As you wish."

"Not with that," he corrected as she lifted the hem of her petticoat. "Surely I deserve better than that."

Josephine gathered her hair, pulling the length of it down over one shoulder. "You do. I apologize." Bending, she dried his feet with her hair, wrapping them in the warm mass of her curls and kissing them gently. She felt as unravelled as her hair now, all loose strands and lazy spirals. When she rested her cheek on his knee and closed her eyes, his hand came to rest on her head like a kiss.

"Undress for me, dear Ambassador." Zevran tapped her temple with a finger. "By the fire. I wish to see you naked but it would be indecent to leave you chilled."

"Yes, Zevran." Undressing was usually such a mechanical thing, removing one uniform in favour of another according to the hours.

Zevran followed her to the fire and stood before her as she fumbled with the tiny buttons of her blouse. He paced around her, loosening his own clothing, didn't offer to assist. Instead, he arranged her hair and what remained of her clothing as she disrobed, sorting it all so that he could see her to best advantage.

"Let it fall," he ordered when she moved, intending to hang her gown. "Stay where you are."

Josephine felt shy, quite unexpectedly. How many times had she been naked in front of him, in front of others? When he pulled her slip aside to bare her breasts, when he moved her hair to admire the lines of her back and waist, she felt like something at auction and wondered at her own worth even as she grew wet with desire.

When Josephine's clothes lay around her feet save for her stockings, Zevran stopped in front of her. He drew her hair forward so that it hung down around her without obscuring her breasts from his view. He cupped each breast in turn as though weighing fruit in the market, teased her nipples with his thumb. Her breath caught and her thighs trembled.

"You are a work of art," he murmured. "A thing of beauty in the shadows of a museum, too often ignored. Fortunate, then, that I have an eye for value. I would steal you if I thought you would not object. It's an offense against nature to leave you to the unappreciative."

"Where would you put me?" Josephine hardly recognized her own voice, it was so soft and needy.

"Oh, I would have to steal a kingdom as well," Zevran said with a wicked little grin that made his eyes flash when he glanced up at her. "I would put you where you belong. On a throne, perhaps. A pedestal seems so cold and you would have to stand so still. How still can you stand?"

Instead of waiting for an answer, Zevran slipped his fingers between her thighs and up until he parted her labia. Josephine reflexively swallowed a whimper, it wouldn't do to react to anything untoward. He stroked her gently, circling her clitoris again and again until she was taut with needing him to do more.

"You are too quiet," he chided. "I demanded stillness, not silence. Surely as an Ambassador you understand the importance of precise wording. I want nothing more than to hear what you need, since you are always moving and never speaking."

"Yes, Zevran," she gasped. "Please." He was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body in spite of the heat of the fire, close enough that he could kiss her shoulder, but not close enough to lean on for support. Shudders shook her as he teased a finger into her. "Please fuck me. Make me come."

"Such language." Zevran chuckled but he pushed two fingers into her, curling them slightly inside her as he stroked, bracing the heel of his hand on her pubis so she could grind against him. "I do love it when you forget to be diplomatic. So long as you stand still, you can make as much noise as you desire. I think that sounds fair."

"Yes, Zevran." Josephine's calves and thighs ached, her belly was taut, she couldn't stop her hips from rocking but he only laughed when she writhed against him. The wet sounds of his fingers fucking her were obscene and that made her hotter still. In moments, those noises were drowned out by her cries and inadvertent curses that sputtered out of her as he pushed her toward orgasm. _Shit. Damn. Andraste's holy cunt, Zevran. Harder. Fuck. Harder._

Josephine's nails raked her thighs as she grabbed for anything to hold, anything to keep from falling as she came. Hot pleasure suffused her skin, her cunt clenched around his fingers and he stroked wave after wave of orgasm out of her. The world spun, her throat ached from her gasps and wails, her toes cramped from digging into the rug, and still she stayed standing, she thought she was standing.

"Ah, Josie." Zevran's voice was as good as a caress. Now he was close enough to lean against, close enough that she could let her head fall onto his shoulder. His fingers still moved in her, gently now. "Such a good girl, always. Tell me when you wish to trade."

"Soon." She took him by the wrist, drew his fingers out of her so that she could lick them clean for him. She loved the way his eyes lit up when she took them in her mouth. "But not too soon."

 


End file.
